


If Happy Ever After Did Exist

by Reading_with_Winchesters



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender, Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hunk is a fucking sweetheart, I swear Lancey Lance will be okay, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Keith isn't having any of this bs, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, as in the same universe but different events, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 06:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12524660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reading_with_Winchesters/pseuds/Reading_with_Winchesters
Summary: Lance was captured by the Galra two months ago. Now that the team has found him, will he manage to heal?





	If Happy Ever After Did Exist

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Maroon 5's "Payphone"

Lance was having a great time.

 

No really, he was.

 

Being captured by the Galra and tortured by everyone he had ever met from sentries to generals to Zarkon himself was just a party. All he needed now were balloons.

 

It had probably about two Earth month since his capture and at least one Earth week since he had been given anything to eat or drink.

 

Lance had started in a cell with all the other prisoners on the ship, but, after organizing a riot and a group escape within his first day there, the Galra had moved him to a solitary cell right next to the group one. This way he could hear everyone talking, but could not communicate with them in any way. This was the worst. Especially to an extrovert like Lance.

 

And so he had started off his time by yelling at the wall separating him from the others until they heard him -- something the Galra had thought impossible beforehand -- and organizing prisoners to help him dig into the wall and try to connect the two cells. Now the collar he had been forced into stopped his jokes and pick-up lines and escape attempts, the things that made Lance who he was. It also stopped his sobs and screams of pain. All in all, Lance just really wished someone would kill him already.

 

Then, one day, Lance woke up to a loud bang. His first instinct was to scream and scramble into a corner in order to hide from whatever Galra bastard was here to hurt him this time. Sadly, the collar around his neck and the chains around his wrists and ankles -- they were from a particularly close escape attempt involving hiding behind the door and slamming it onto a guard -- as well as his broken spirit prevented that. A few seconds of pure panic later and Lance realized that the sound had not come from his door but the communal prison cell next to him. If he listened with all his might, he could make out voices...

 

Oh god, it was the other paladins. Lance’s heart lept: they had come to save him! If only he could let them know he was right here next to them. He tried to pound the walls, but the chains yanked him back; he tried to yell but the collar choked him off. It only took a few seconds for him to stop fighting. Who was he kidding? They had probably replaced him the day after he left. They were definitely better without him anyway. Nobody could want a paladin who was weak enough to let the Galra capture them and have their way with him day after day. He was no one anymore. The laughing boy’s laughter was gone.

 

There was silence in the other room. Everyone was gone. Lance knew the Galra would take their anger at the escape out on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care: it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it.

 

The next thing he knew the door to his cell had been blown to pieces and in its place were four large, looming figures. The largest one was still holding what looked like a cannon, still glowing from a recent discharge.

 

Lance’s team had found him.

 

“Lance!” Hunk exclaimed, almost dropping his bayard in his rush to get to his best friend’s side.

 

“Stay back.” Shiro warned, putting an arm in front of the eager boy in order to hold him back, “We don’t know what they’ve done to him. He might not even remember who we are.” He turned to look at Lance, who was still curled up in as small of a ball as he could manage in the middle of the room.

 

“My name is Takashi Shirogane. I am the Black Paladin of Voltron. The people behind me are the other paladins. You are the blue paladin. Do you remember any of this?”

 

Lance nodded wearily. Of course he remembered: Voltron had been the best thing to happen to him. Not even the Galra could take that away from him.

 

Relief flooded Shiro’s tense face and he opened his mouth to tell Lance how glad they all were to see him again, but Keith stepped forward and cut him off, “He’s not being sarcastic. He’s not even talking. This is  _ not _ Lance.” Trust Keith not to trust Lance -- he was the one who knew Lance best, after all.

 

Lance’s body slumped out of its curled up position to instead lie face down on the floor. He didn’t blame them for not trusting him: he was too tired to put up his usual facade, and there was no way for any of them to recognize him without it. It was not even the collar’s fault he didn’t talk. At this point he had just given up.

 

“He’s obviously been tortured,” Pidge chimed in, “He could have developed any number of different issues: PTSD, anxiety, malnutrition, selective mutism, Pavlovian responses...” Pidge was ready to keep going, but Shiro cut her off.

 

“We can worry about all of that later. Right now we just need to get Lance out of here.” With that, Shiro activated his arm and cut through the countless chains binding Lance to his cell.

 

Lance could hardly believe it. He had been captured, violated thrown around, and the team still wanted him. With difficulty he pulled his head off of the ground and slowly -- so slowly -- stood up, using both of his arms and more effort than he thought himself possible of. A small smile played across his face as he looked at the people he had prayed for for so long.

 

They looked back at him, slack-jawed with shock. They hadn’t noticed while he was curled up, but the boy in front of them was almost unrecognizable. Where Lance was lanky, this boy was stick thin; where Lance was sparkling and happy, this boy was dirty and broken; where Lance was a fighter, this boy had given up. Not to mention the ripped black bodysuit in place of his usual jacket, and the fact that he was one leg short of the Lance they knew, and, unlike with Shiro, there was no prosthetic to take its place.

 

“Oh my god.” Pidge murmured. Hunk looked near tears while Shiro could do nothing more than gape. Keith looked heartbroken, standing off to the side so no one could see him.

 

“What did they do to you?” Shiro finally managed to ask at the same time that Keith demanded, “Tell me who did this to you!” His eyes blazing and his hand white-knuckled on his sword.

 

Lance’s smile turned sad and he opened his mouth to speak, forgetting, for a second, the collar that controlled his voice. The pain that shot through his body reminded him quickly, and Hunk barely got there in time to catch him as he fell.

 

At that same moment, the alarm went off. The galra knew they were there.

 

Shiro swore under his breath. Now they would most likely have to fight their way out, and Lance couldn’t even walk, let alone fight. Not to mention the half dozen or so other prisoners standing anxiously in the hallway, waiting for Voltron to take them to safety.

 

“Alright, Pidge and Keith, go take the prisoners to an escape pod. Hunk and I will get Lance to the Green Lion and get it ready.” Shiro ordered without hesitation. Pidge and Hunk nodded quickly, but,

 

“No way! I’m staying with Lance.” Was Keith’s reply. “Shiro, I can carry him and you can fight everyone off. You’re the best fighter we have, and Pidge might need a long range weapon like Hunk’s to help fend off the Galra.” Keith was angry and determined, to a point no one had ever seen before, a point that left no room for argument, no matter. Not to mention his was a pretty damn good strategy, no matter how much Hunk wanted to stay with his best friend. Everyone nodded, and Hunk gently maneuvered Lance into Keith’s arms without causing the poor boy any more pain than he already felt. With one last worried glance at Lance apiece, Hunk and Pidge ran off to help the other prisoners escape.

 

Keith’s arms were surprisingly strong, and he was able to carry Lance bridal style with ease as they snuck through the hallways. As good a fighter as Shiro was, they were going to do their best to avoid a confrontation with Lance as vulnerable as he was. Lance could not care less if Keith had dropped him right then and there: this was the first caring touch he had felt in months, and he was going to enjoy it no matter how fleeting it might be. It helped, of course, that Keith was really pretty. Like  _ really _ pretty. Torture had made Lance forget that, and no circumstance was going to stop him from trying his hardest to memorize that face in case this was the last time he saw it. From now on, he would take the next day as a hope, not a certainty.

 

Sensing Lance’s stare, Keith looked down at him and smiled. “I missed you.” He whispered, soft enough so that Shiro would not hear them. As much as they loved Shiro, this relationship was their secret.

 

Lance wanted nothing more than to pull his mullethead into a deep kiss, but memories of what the Galra had done to him ran through his head one after another, plaguing his every thought about Keith; there was no way he deserved that boy anymore. There was no way Keith would want him if he knew. If.

 

Then Keith’s brow furrowed, “Shiro,” he whispered, never taking his eyes off of Lance, “Lance has some sort of collar around his neck, I think it’s the reason he isn’t talking.

 

“We’ll fix it when we get to the ship.” Came Shiro’s distracted reply.

 

“It’s hurting him!”

 

“Keith.” Shiro sounded angry. In all truth he was just stressed beyond belief trying to figure out the best way to handle this situation, but he didn’t want to let Keith think there was a chance they wouldn’t make it, “We don’t have time. It’s a miracle we haven’t run into any Galra yet, and the longer we hang around, the greater the chance of an ambush. I want to help Lance just as much as you, but we can’t right now.” Keith was ready to argue with everything he had in him, but Lance’s hands snaked around his neck and gave him a clear ‘I love you and appreciate this but listen to Shiro you stubborn ass.’ squeeze. The problem was that there was none of the trademark sarcasm that made gestures like that his own. Keith was definitely worried at this point.

 

The trio continued to alternate between sneaking through the corridors and stopping to check on Lance for a while before Keith and Shiro’s comms crackled to life.

 

“Um, guys?” Came Pidge’s voice.

 

“What’s wrong.” Shiro said without even a moment’s hesitation. One team member was already down, he would not let anything happen to any of the others. One was too many. One was more than he could handle.

 

“We got the prisoners into an escape pod that’s already heading to the castle, but all of the Galra soldiers -- and I mean  _ all _ of them -- are surrounding Green. There’s no way we’re going to get through.

 

“We’ll be there as soon as we can. Don’t engage them until we get there, there aren’t enough of you.” Now that he knew where all the Galra were, caution was unnecessary. He and Keith could get there as fast as they could run.

 

Sounds of firing guns echoed through the headsets, followed immediately by Hunk’s “Too late!” Shiro swore -- not softly this time -- and started sprinting towards the Green Lion. Keith followed as best he could with Lance’s long frame in his arms.

 

Lance could not help but feel like a burden. Keith and Shiro could get to the other paladins much faster without his dead weight, and Keith’s arms must be tired by now anyway and now he was going to have to figure out how to fight with his arms full of useless human. Plus, Shiro had to keep his team together and winning while worrying about Lance and keeping his almost paralyzed body safe from more harm than it had already endured. Lance was the opposite of helpful right now, and he was more than well aware of that.

 

Shiro was so focused on getting to Pidge and Hunk -- and Keith on keeping up without tripping or dropping Lance -- that neither one of them noticed the lone Galra soldier sneaking up behind them as the other two paladins came into view.

 

Lance noticed.

 

It was Lance’s job to notice, as far as he was concerned; he had always been good at observation, and years of having to expect danger at every corner as a paladin of voltron had only helped that ability. The least he could do well Shiro and Keith kept him safe was watch their backs. Lance tried to scream, to shake Keith into looking behind him, but each and every attempt was thwarted by the goddamned Galra collar and Keith’s complete obliviousness.

 

A gun was raised as Shiro bolted into the fight without hesitation, leaving Keith on the side to decide whether Lance would be safer on the edge of the battle or cradled in Keith’s free arm in the middle of the action. The choice he wanted to go with came forth immediately, but deciding if it was plausible for him to carry Lance and still stab Galra efficiently was the problem.

 

At this point -- with the gun aimed directly at the back of Keith’s head -- there was no way for Lance to warn Keith and still leave him time to actually get out of the way of the gunfire. His heart sunk a little, but he knew what he had to do.

 

Without a second thought, Lance mustered all of the strength that remained in his feeble body and threw his torso over Keith’s shoulder just as a ray of light was released from the gun. Keith let out a grunt of surprise as Lance’s body moved and he was forced to rapidly adjust his own center of gravity, but his actions were rendered moot as the force of the laser toppled the pair to the ground.

 

But Lance’s goal had been achieved: he had absorbed all of the destructive energy, and Keith remained untouched and unharmed, although very confused as to what had just happened. That was good; Keith was worth more than Lance could ever be.

 

Keith managed to wriggle out from under Lance’s prone body, his unease growing the entire time. What had caused Lance to move so quickly? What had knocked them over? Why was Lance not getting up.

 

He took one look at the charred, smoking, spot that was Lance’s back and the Galra with the raised gun behind him before forming his sword and launching it directly into the soldier’s heart. He had never managed to make that shot before, but he supposed that without Lance someone was going to have to be the sharpshooter.

 

No. Keith shook his head angrily. Lance wasn’t gone. Lance  _ couldn’t _ be gone. If he was, Keith was going to kill him himself. A hot tear ran down his cheek, but he could not be bothered to do anything about it.

 

As if he had sensed that something had happened, Shiro came running over, “What’s wrong?” He yelled over the chaos of the fight behind him, “We need you to fight. There are too many of them.”

 

And then he saw Lance, the lack of sword in Keith’s hand, and the dead Galra. Never before had such a rage taken over him so quickly. He could have, and would have, taken on Zarkon then and there and easily won with this much hatred-fueled energy. Seeing Shiro’s eyes darken to lightless black was new and rather horrifying to Keith, but the situation at hand allowed for approximately none of his attention to focus on that aspect of what was going on. Not when Lance was down.

 

“Pidge, Hunk, focus on clearing a path to Green. Lance got shot and we need to get him into a healing pod as fast as we can.” Where there usually would have been a chorus of questions about what happened, there was absolute silence; Shiro’s snapping tone had told them that whatever it was, it was bad, and there was no time to question. Shiro ran back into the fight, and soon enough an adequate gap had formed.

 

Keith scooped Lance up gingerly, doing his best to avoid touching his blackened back in the process. In the back of his head he still thought about how nobody had checked Lance for a pulse after he had been shot; Lance could very well be dead.

 

No.  _ No _ .  He still could not afford to think like that. The only thing that mattered now was getting Lance into the lion and all the way to Coran. Coran could handle this. Coran could handle anything. And there was no way that Lance would have the absolute audacity to die on him like this. Not after he had finally broken down Keith’s walls and connected to him. Keith had finally trusted him, Lance wouldn’t do this now. Right? Right? He had better be right.

 

Dodging shot after shot -- shielding Lance’s body with his own the whole time -- Keith ran towards the Green Lion, sometimes elbowing the Galra if they got in the way. He ran as if his life depended on it; the way he saw it, it did.

 

“Pidge!” Keith yelled into his headset as the lion loomed over him, “We’re almost there, I need you to let us in!”

 

“Got it.” Came Pidge’s response. A little while ago she had installed some tech into Green that allowed her -- and only her -- to manually open her lion from long distances. This upgrade made escapes easier and allowed other people into the lion without her should the team have to split up on a mission.

 

The lion bent down and opened its mouth just in time for Keith to run inside with Lance and still let the doors close before any blaster fire could follow. He only had a moment to breathe before realizing he was covered in some sort of thick, sticky substance. There was only a moment of confusion before he realised what it was and turned even paler than he usually was: it was Lance’s blood. He was covered in Lance’s blood. The boy was bleeding -- profusely if he was to judge by the sheer amount that was covering his armour -- and Keith hadn’t even noticed. The boy needed help and he needed it now.

 

“Guys, you need to get in here so we can leave!”

 

“Keith, we know Lance is in bad shape, but the more of Zarkon’s men we can take down, the better. We’ll be there right away, just lie him down.”

 

“We don’t have time! You said so yourself! He’s bleeding, I’m covered in his blood! If we wait any longer he won’t make it!” If they took their time Lance was going to die. Lance would leave him the way everyone else did -- the way he always promised he never would. And that was if he wasn’t dead already.

 

There was silence on the other comms, but in mere seconds the door opened and three dirty, tired paladins came tumbling in, bayards still in weapon form. They were back on their feet in no time, however, with Pidge running to the pilot’s seat, Hunk grabbing the first aid that was handy in every lion, and Shiro leaning down next to Keith.

 

“I got your bayard for you.” Shiro said softly as he knelt and Hunk sat down to take Lance’s pulse. Keith grabbed it with a muttered thanks just as Hunk let out a sigh of relief.

 

“He’s alive, guys. Not, like, in great condition or anything but his heart is beating and he is breathing. Keith couldn’t help but let out his own sigh of relief as the words reached his brain and Shiro’s fingers loosely gripped over his own, easing their white-knuckled grip on the blue paladin. That was funny: he didn’t remember tightening his hold.

 

The further sounds of Pidge talking frantically to an equally distressed Coran, and those of Hunk bustling around and taking in frequent sharp breaths of air were mere background noise to Keith, who -- even with the knowledge that Lance was still alive -- could focus on nothing but the lifeless body in front of him. Even Shiro’s questioning “What happened?” seemed to come from another reality. One where Lance had never been captured and had never gotten so broken and hurt.

 

Answers to Shiro’s gentle prods for information alluded Keith in the swirling and tumbling thoughts flitting through his brain. He couldn’t help but go through every possible scenario where he could have saved Lance. If he had just been a little quicker, smarter, more observant, than this would never have happened. He stewed and got angrier and angrier until a warm hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him back and grounding him in the fact that he and Lance were safe from further fire, and that Lance was, for the moment, alive. 

 

A sigh escaped Keith’s lips as he finally mustered the strength to answer Shiro, “A sentry shot at me and Lance put himself between me and the gun.” His hands clenched and his eyes watered against his will as the memory replayed in his brain, “Why didn’t he just tell me? Or warn me in some way? Why - why did he do that?” The voice crack on the last sentence was audible to everyone in the room. Trust was a hard thing for Keith to give, and he had finally given it to Lance. He had finally connected with a person after so many years of trying. Why would Lance leave him? Why did everyone leave him? Was he bad luck? A bad person? Was he himself the reason people left him? The reason his mom left? The reason Lance was leaving right now?

 

“I can hear you overthinking, Keith.” Shiro’s words jarred him from his racing thoughts. The older man smiled softly, “I know how much you care for Lance.” Keith opened his mouth to say something cryptic about how annoying Lance was, but Shiro plowed on, “Nope. Don’t argue. I’ve seen the way you guys look at each other; you’re not as subtle as you think you are.

 

Keith blushed the same color as his armour as Pidge jumped in, “Yeah just because you hold hands and other gross shit like that under the table doesn’t mean we can’t see it. We’re not stupid.”

 

“Yeah, um, also, my room is right next to Lance’s, and I can hear you guys through the walls at night.” Hunk told the room. Not a second passed between the words leaving his mouth and the realization of what that sounded like set in.

 

“I mean, like, I hear you guys talking and laughing. Not, like, doing things. Not that I’m judging you if you do, it’s totally natural. I just don’t want you to think I’m listening in, because I’m not. And I never will, if like, you do start doing things. I am totally oka-”

 

Shiro cut Hunk off with a firm look before turning back to Keith, who had managed to turn even redder than his lion, “We’re all okay with it. I’m sorry you felt you had to hide it, but I understand; I know your past.” Shiro smiled slightly before turning serious once more, “I also know that your past has caused you a lot of pain, but Lance didn’t leave you Keith: he tried to save you. He loves you just as much as you love him. We don’t know what he went through at the hands of the Galra, but whatever it was is probably the reason he took such drastic measures to keep you safe from them. Whatever happened, and whatever will happen, we are going to be here to help him.

 

“If he survives,” Keith muttered angrily, “We don’t even know if he’ll make it!”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Hunk piped up nervously, “Not to, like, make things worse but, uh, the area where his leg was cut off is not in good shape. It’s bleeding a lot and I think there’s a pretty good chance it’s infected.

 

“Good thing we’re at the Castle, then.” Pidge said, voice strained. Lance was like a brother to her -- even more so with Matt MIA -- and seeing him hurt took as much out of her as it did Keith. She was just better at controlling her emotions. Everyone in the lion was holding onto their fear and worry better than Keith was at that moment, and that never happened. Before today, Keith Kogane had never truly broken down. Before today, Keith Kogane had seemed indestructible.

 

Shiro immediately took charge, “Pidge, as soon as the lion is stopped run ahead and tell Coran the situation. See if he needs any help.” She nodded, quickly stopped Green, and ran out.

 

Shiro turned his attention to Hunk, “Hunk, you bring Lance to the med bay. Be quick, but more importantly be careful. We can’t afford to jostle him or worsen his condition somehow.” Hunk nodded, scooping Lance up as if he were a newborn kitten and making his way to the door as if he carried a priceless treasure (He did).

 

Keith made a move to follow Hunk, but was stopped by Shiro’s arm and a shake of his head.

 

“You need to wash yourself and your clothes before anything else. You’re covered in blood and you have done more than your part. Take fifteen minutes to relax, okay?”

 

No, it was not okay, but Shiro shot down every protest he made, resolutely not taking no for an answer. And so Keith stalked off towards his room, vowing to take the quickest shower of his life.

 

~

 

By the time Shiro reached the medbay -- he had tailed Keith a little while to make sure he actually went into his room at the very least -- Coran was hard at work with Pidge while Hunk sat a little ways away. His head was hanging between his legs and its pallor nearly matched the color of his jacket.

 

“Ah, Shiro!” Coran looked up from the body in front of him, “Perfect timing! I just have to disinfect the wounds and then I’ll need your help to get the boy into a healing pod.” Pidge looked rather disgruntled at his complete overlook of her presence, but she couldn’t get too mad considering she was a 4’11” bean pole and Coran needed to do heavy-ish lifting. So instead of protesting, she grumbled under her breath and went off to go sit next to Hunk.

 

“So he’s going to be okay?” Shiro asked. God, Lance had better be okay. The team would probably fall apart without him: he was the glue holding them all together. His jokes and ill-timed pick up lines got the team through hard missions and harder times; his was the hand that could be depended on whenever any one of them needed to just talk; Lance was the one who made sure no one ever stayed angry or upset for too long.

 

Shiro made a mental note to remind Lance of that as soon as he woke up.

 

“Well,” Coran sounded uncomfortable -- which did nothing for Shiro’s confidence -- as he began to pour a sticky orange substance onto Lance’s back. It pooled into little droplets before melting into his skin, “I’d say there’s a 38.7% chance that he will be completely okay, but at least an 89.92% chance that he will wake up.” Shiro wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but as he watched Coran pour the Altean disinfectant onto the stump of Lance’s leg, his heart could not help but sink. Hunk echoed his feelings with a loud groan from across the room.

 

“So what’s the most likely outcome?” He did not really want to know, but there remained a part of Shiro that knew he had to plan for how this would affect his team, and how to strategize should Lance be unable to fight. In the end, it was better to be prepared.

 

“Most likely he will wake up and his leg will be healed up fine. His back will be right painful for a while and it will continue to bother him, minutely, for the rest of his life.” Coran didn’t look up from where he was dabbing at other various injuries with the medicine as he finished, “But there’s no way of knowing how much scarring will occur, or how his mental state will be affected. He could have a number of severe disorders and they could last anywhere from a year to until he dies.”

 

“What about the collar?” Came a voice from the entrance behind Shiro.

 

“I told you to go take a sh-”

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Shiro. I can’t and I won’t.” Keith had been on his way to the shower after having used the Altean version of a washing machine and dryer -- he would never get used to having his clothes cleaned so quickly -- when he had heard ‘38.7% chance’. He didn’t need context to know that Coran was talking about Lance’s chances, and there was absolutely no way he was going to do something as trivial as take a shower if there was only a 38.7% that Lance would be okay.

 

It was lucky for him that Shiro picked up on the warning in Keith’s words, because Keith had decided that he was ready to physically fight anyone who tried to stand between him and Lance. A wall had already suffered greatly from his anger, and he was not against making a person feel the same pain if need be.

 

“Oh, right, that thing.” Coran looked sheepish, “I’m afraid I can’t get it off to analyze the data. It’s Galra-made and I think they created it so only a Galra could take it off. Some sort of sick torture insurance or whatever.”

 

Keith was across the room and had used his hand to activate the collar and take it off before anyone had the chance to lecture him about the dangers of touching a torture device that hadn’t been properly inspected yet. Not that any of them would have; they were just as anxious to see Lance okay as he was.

 

Pidge took one look at Lance’s neck and turned as green as Hunk already was, if not more so. The skin was charred and run through with cracks as if it were a volcanic landscape, and there were several rings of puncture wounds wrapping around his neck, surrounded by a mixture of fresh and dried blood and were oozing some sort of disgusting pus. All in all, it was obviously painful and terribly infected.

 

“Right.” Even Coran’s voice sounded strangled now, “ Shiro, let’s get him in the pod now. I don’t think even the strongest disinfectant could help this.” They carefully strripped off what was left of Lance’s clothing, leaving his underwear in an attempt at decency, and put on a pod suit that Pidge had modified to be backless and only have one leg. Then they put him in the pod. Everything was done in under five dobashes.

 

Everyone stood back, looking helplessly at the blue paladin; looking helplessly at their friend.

 

Hunk broke the silence, “So, um, what exactly will the pod heal? How much of his back will get fixed? Will it, like, grow him a new leg? What about internal damage? Will it hurt him? Will he b-”He stopped abruptly before continuing, this time in a much softer voice, “Sorry. I’m just really worried. He’s my best friend.” Everyone understood. Lance was a best friend to all of them as well. Even more than that to one.

 

“He will not get a new leg, and his internal damage will be healed as best the pod can manage. Other than that, we’ll just have to wait and see.” Coran told the worried boy solemnly.

 

And with that, the paladins disbanded. There was nothing anyone could do for Lance until he was awake. Now it was time to heal themselves and process everything that had just happened.

 

Except for Keith.

 

Keith stayed. He laid down in front of Lance’s pod and thought of all the ways he could have helped Lance, and all the ways he would help him as soon as he could; the ways he could subtly -- and not so subtly -- let Lance know how in love Keith was with him. Lance was never again going out of his sight. Never... Never...

 

And with that, exhaustion took its hold and Keith fell into a fitful sleep.

 

~

 

Two days passed until good news came from Coran: Lance was definitely going to wake up. It was now a definite. The exact timing, however, was something even Coran could not figure out, the only certainty was that it was going to be sometime tomorrow, probably in the morning.

 

Keith had been sitting outside of Lance’s pod literally since he had lain down there three days before. Hunk silently brought him food three or four times a day, Pidge came by to just talk, and Shiro sometimes tried to talk him into going to his own bed to no avail. It was around time for lunch right then, but Keith wasn’t going to go anywhere; he wasn’t leaving until Lance was out of the pod and certifiably okay. Well, at least a little okay. Okay to the point where he was not at risk of randomly dropping dead, that was really all Keith was asking for.

 

Lance looked better, at least. Through the pod Keith could see that his neck looked normal besides light scarring where the puncture wounds had been. His leg had healed up too, but there was no way for Keith to see what damage remained on his back and his brain.

 

It was at that very moment that the pod hissed open and Lance was suddenly a heap in Keith’s arm. The boy’s eyes blinked open and he smiled softly up at Keith.

 

“Well, I guess I fell for you, again.” He said sleepily, and that was when Keith knew everything was going to be okay. Nothing was okay now -- the bumpy scar tissue and quick disappearance of Lance’s smile as he attempted to stand up on his own with only one leg were testament to that -- but it all would be. There was still some of Lance’s original spirit in this broken boy, all they needed to do now was bring it out more, and Keith was sure the team could do that. Yes, it would be hard -- the way Lance was wriggling out of Keith’s arms, looking scared and defeated the whole time, was proof enough -- but one day they would get there. All Lance and the team needed now was time and space, the two things they seemed to have in abundance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!! Kudos and comments are much appreciated.


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